Welcome, Casey
by JustDrinkTea
Summary: You will never forget the first day you saw her- the first time you saw her wispy hair, her tiny fingers. It had taken a lot of work to get to this point; paperwork, adoption approvals... But finally it looks like you and John will have a new member of the family. And she's going to be a handful.


You will never forget the first day you saw her.

Now, you're not one to usually get all choked up, or express too much of any kind of emotion, really; that's John's job. But the first time you ever laid your eyes on that tiny little body, nestled up comfortably in a soft, pink blanket, you actually had a hard time keeping back tears.

You did manage, however; and John will never be the wiser.

That day you two were in the hospital, she was almost a week old already- still dependent on her mother whose name you had the hardest time remembering. It was her child's name that stuck with you:

Casey.

Both you and John had insisted on her naming her own child. She insisted she'd rather not at the risk of getting too attached; all she wanted was to give her baby a good, safe home, and go back to finish her senior year. John actually sat down with her and convinced the girl to at least pick from a list he'd written up earlier that week. After all, the two of you wanted for your adopted daughter to have some connection to her mother.

John really liked holding her, cooing her, kissing her. He was in love.

You were more wary; always afraid that even the smallest touch would break her small body. She was so fragile, so helpless. John kept insisting you hold her that first day, but you were- admittedly- terrified. The fears took several forms: the first being the degree of delicacy you would have to develop to even be able to _hold_ her. The second being everything else. What if you weren't good enough as a parent? What if you couldn't do this? You don't know anything about raising a kid, let alone a girl. What were you supposed to do if something went wrong?

You were stressing yourself out and all that'd happened was John asking if you wanted to hold her.

Your anxiety went up and your heart beat faster than you would've liked to admit. You had to sit down- unable to handle all these fears flooding over you at once.

Later that night when you and John were back in the hotel room, you confessed. He just laughed and told you to "just hold her tomorrow."

And so you did.

Whoever it was that first said children are miracles wasn't as insane as many people think he/she is. As soon as you held that sleeping figure in your arms- albeit hesitant at first- you realized that hell yes you can do this. You are Dave fucking Strider and you can do this. You looked down at her, brushing away some wisps of hair from her face. There was no way you were going to let yourself screw something like this- something like _her-_ up. You were going to keep her happy and healthy. You were going to protect her with your life. Suddenly, you understood John's affections.

A few more days in the hospital, and the doctors have deemed Casey strong enough to finally travel home. It's a tearful goodbye- on John and the mother's part, that is. You've opened your home up to her for visits, and invited the young woman and her family up for Christmas in a few months.

She declined; worried it would be too hard to say goodbye again.

You make it clear that the offer still stands regardless, and then you're on your way home.

Both Casey and John sleep most the way home. Your gaze shifts to them often as you drive, and you can't help but smile; finally, after all the paperwork, after all the money spent, after all the trouble this has taken, it's all coming together.

That spare bedroom will finally have someone to house.

You would finally have the daughter John always dreamed of taking care of- the daughter that you always, silently yearned for yourself. And she was going to grow up well- you'd make sure of that.

You still had your fear, of course; the thought of messing this up is enough to make you sick. But you'd be lying if you said that your confidence hasn't grown. And you're almost sure you can handle this. After all, you'll have John- your partner in crime- by your side through all of this chaos and such you're sure is about to ensue. That fact itself is reassuring.

The first few weeks pass by in what seems to be the blink of an eye.

"...Dave. Dave wake up. Dave!"

You roll over, slapping John's hand away from your shoulder. You thought for sure that tonight might be the night you_ actually_ get enough sleep. But, no; you were pulled from your dreams once more by John's shaking your shoulder, and shrill, unhappy crying in the other room. Needless to say, you are not too pleased with the situation.

"Jesus christ," you mutter sleepily and grumpily. "Let me sleep."

"Casey's crying again."

"Yeah, no shit." You shift so that your back is facing him, burying your face into the pillow and exhaling deeply against the fabric. "I figured you'd take care of it- she's your kid."

John catches you off guard with a hard shove against your back, effectively, pushing you off the bed and onto the floor. He's speaking before you even get the chance to start protesting, "How is it that whenever she cries, she's _my _kid, and then whenever some pretty girl asks, she's yours?" he snaps. "Tell me the logic behind that!"

You have to remind yourself that he's just as tired as you are, that he's not actually mad at you- he's mad at the situation. "Fine, fine," you say in defeat, pushing yourself up off the floor. You stretch and start heading towards the bedroom door. "Calm down, I'm going."

"There are a couple bottles in the fridge," he mumbles, his mood a little better now that he knows you're taking care of it this time.

You don't bother with telling him that yes, you're fully aware of the bottles in the fridge considering _you_ were the one to take the time to fill them up yesterday. No, your relationship will probably be better off tonight if you just let that comment alone and allow for John to go back to sleep. Yawning, you shuffle to the kitchen, grabbing a bottle and warming it up for a few, short seconds in the microwave before you head over to the baby's room; the bedroom adjacent from yours.

"Hey, hey, shh..." you say comfortingly to the crying child, flicking the light on and shutting the door behind you. "It's okay, Daddy's here now." You set the bottle down on the brightly-painted dresser and lean over the crib, picking her up and holding her gently in your arms. You bounce her a little, offering calming shushes as you do so.

"I know, I know. Papa's usually in here to take care of you, I know." You lay her down on the changing table, and go about the awful task of changing a dirty diaper. "But Papa's an as- jerk and wouldn't get out of bed," you catch the swear before it can leave your mouth, "so you're stuck with Daddy tonight." Changing diapers is without a doubt the worst thing you've ever had to do- and you're including growing up with your brother in that equation- but it makes Casey a little happier and calms her cries down enough for you to avoid a headache.

You pick her up again, this time grabbing the bottle and taking a seat in the rocking chair John insisted you buy. You really hated the idea at the time, but Casey adores the stupid thing and, thus, it's been a lifesaver on multiple occasions. You push yourself back and forth, rocking gently. It's enough to put you back to sleep.

"Here you go, baby..." you whisper, offering her the bottle. She takes it in her mouth happily- the promise of the warm milk calming her much more than you could've ever hoped for. "There. That's better, huh?" You've gotten into the habit of talking to her. The first few days were awkward- how the hell are you supposed to talk to a baby?- but John had his own conversations with her so often that it kind of rubbed off and you felt better with actually speaking to her.

"You think tomorrow night you could just sleep? Because I would really appreciate that, kid." You brush her bangs away from her eyes; they have a tendency to linger there. "I'll make you a deal. Don't tell Papa, but if you sleep tomorrow, I promise that I won't ever tell you no alcohol. But no getting drunk until you're, like, 18, okay? We don't need to give Papa a heart attack when you're 13. Oh and no sex. And I don't care what your future, douchebag boyfriend says; giving him a blowjob counts."

You yawn, watching her eyes dart around happily as she drinks, paying you no attention. You sigh a little and smile, laying your head back against the back of the chair. It only takes you a few minutes to start dozing, but Casey makes sure to pull you back to reality with some leg kicking and unhappy whining.

Sighing sleepily, you pull the bottle away. "What? Are you finished already?" You offer the bottle to her once more, but she whines, despite there still being a third of the liquid left. "Alright, alright. You're finished already. I got that."

You set the bottle down on the floor next to the chair, standing so you can burp her and put her back in her crib. "Better now?" you ask, leaning over the side, your faces close to touching.

She reaches up and grabs to play with your hair. You take that as a yes.

You lean in a bit more and bump noses a couple of times- what was it John called it? Eskimo kisses?- before pressing a soft kiss to her forehead. "Now sleep," you whisper, ruffling her hair a bit and pulling away. She seems more content now and you feel eager as ever to go back to bed, grabbing the bottle off the floor and flicking the light off as you exit the room. The bottle is placed in the sink and you shuffle back to your own room.

You've never felt so happy to crawl back into bed.

Draping the blankets over you, you inch closer to the center of the mattress, wrapping your arms around John and burying your face in his hair comfortably.

He wakes up and shifts just the tiniest bit. "She asleep?"

"Well she's not crying anymore," you mutter against him, closing his eyes and trying to fall back asleep.

"But is she asleep?" He sounds to be in a better mood than he had been before, but he's still snapping at you.

You groan a little against him. "She's falling asleep. Close enough."

John shifts a little bit more, trying to get a good look at you. "Dave-"

"Look, she's fine. If she starts crying again I'll get up and handle, okay?" You tug him close to you. "But can I just sleep for right now?"

He's quiet for a moment, as if considering what you're saying. "Alright," he says finally with a quiet yawn, "but I'm holding you to that. If she cries again tonight, you're getting her." He settles down next to you, his breathing slowing as he falls asleep.

You don't answer, not really caring. You don't expect for Casey to wake back up tonight.

You're up again at 5:30, of course.

**Notes**: This is the beginning of another two (three?) shot I am starting!

Because John and Dave and babies. Why not?

Feedback would be lovely, my dears! I always appreciate hearing from you C:


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